Drouning roses- Alternate endings
by GrammarAssassin04
Summary: Drouning roses- alternate endings. Pretty obvious. WARNING MILD VIOLENCE
1. Coyotes

**Author's note: **Hi. I'm the author, I guess. This is not my character, it's Omgimsocool's, so don't hate, please? My friend from school, Ramonks33 made a commentary version of the drowning roses story, and that's really good, so go check that out too. And I'm going to add more chapters with other ways she dies, but if you have any suggestions for ways she should die, please, I say! I say, I say, give 'em here. (Bad foghorn leghorn impersonation) ... But seriously, I will listen to everything you say, even if I don't agree. At all. Thankyou.

**Chapter 1: Coyotes**

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My name is Ericka Shine. My last name is made up because I don't know my real one. They call me Shine because my cheeks shine like jewels, especially when I smile, or so my dad used to say. I never smile nowadays. However, I like my last name and my friends still call me Ericka Shine. My hair is blonde, it goes down to my waist, and two red streaks frame my face. I have never cut my hair, and I don't ever plan to. My eyes are different not the traditional eyes you'll find around here. I definitely don't belong in District Twelve, the dark hair, grey eyes, all that doesn't pertain to my circumstances at all. I'm different, and more so, strange.

That's why I'm an orphan, well, not really. I'm an orphan because my dad died in the mine incident a while ago, and my mother died while she was giving birth to me. It feels kind of strange, knowing your mum has already sacrificed her life for yours, like you don't have a second chance. As an orphan, I get everything for myself, food, water, clothes, all of tye stuff you take for granted. It's been like that as long as I can remember. Nothing really changes here, except the people. The people change every day, and I have a valid reason to say that too, it's not just their personalities; it's the people around me. Food is scarce when you're like me. Food is scarce all over District Twelve, it always has been, because we are the leftover district, the one no one wants.

Nicholas and Jack, my best friends, more like brothers, actually, died, not too long ago too. They were orphans too. It all started when they saved me, an inch away from death, on the cold, dark and damp streets of the district twelve, where if you die, no one will notice. If you get hanged, then someone will notice. Maybe, but the peacekeepers here are never very good at doing their job around here, so it doesn't happen very often, or ever. The more common result is them being pronounced dead of natural causes, hunger, dehydration, pneumonia, any of that. Some peacekeepers make a list for us. The list includes who has died, and whatnot. It goes down by about thirty every day.

That happened to Nicholas, I saw him on the list. He was here one day, gone the next, just like the thirty-one other people that day. We buried him, near the rocky river with the cold water where he slept, Jack and me, for his other friends were gone by then. We have made so many graveyards here in District twelve that I've lost count of how many, just about fifty by my guess.

Jack is the one who was one of the many victims that fell to the Hunger Games and President Snow's evil reign last year. I still haven't gotten over it, seeing his blood staining the grass by the cornucopia. None of us have. He brought us together, a family of misfits. He reminded us we were family. I just hope the same thing won't happen to me, but life is short-lived here. Where isn't it? I've asked myself so many questions, and this is the one I can't, or don't know how -to answer.

I live beside an abandoned house. I'd live in it, but the landlord comes by every day to make sure we don't, otherwise, all of us would've already moved in. I could never afford a house in my current finance situation. So, I made a small lean-to with old branches. A cardboard box as a bedside table, leaning against the wall of the old housean old pillowcase stuffed with ratty sweaters and burnt clothing. I haven't re-stuffed it since the mining incident a few years back. My old knife rests on the box, guarding me in my sleep, feeding me when I'm hungry. I'd be dead if it wasn't for it. I keep my old bent bucket under the cardboard box. I steal clean, fresh water from the well in the square. The stream in the forest holds dangerous water, said to have come from the fabled district thirteen. Do I believe it? No. Do I believe the water is even a Little, mildly poisonous? Yes. Lucy died from it. She was always gentle; she could never steal from the well. She would've never made it as an outcast, misfit, or an orphan. I'm glad she died quickly. Better than Ethan, he was beat up by peacekeepers two reapings ago for interrupting the ceremony. He survived, but president snow ordered his death, so his death it shall be.

Today I'll go hunting in the woods by the edge of district twelve. I hastily grab the old bent and rusty knife hanging off the edge of the cardboard box by my mattress. I speed under the fence, but pause first, as today is the reaping. I try to listen for the faint buzz of instant death, the plague that just so happens to come with the burden of the Capitol grinding down on us for everything. Deeper into the woods I crawl, my feet sore, not having shoes can do that to a person, being poor can do that to a person. I catch sight of a medium-sized doe, and I followed it, stalking it into the deepest part of the woods, until it notices me and glares into my eyes, silently begging for life. I launch the knife, and I hit my target - the main artery in the neck. It falls instantly, giving me all the food I can eat for a week. Suddenly, Gale appears.

Gale is tall, handsome, and strong, and his face holds the dreamy eyes filled with grey. Grey clouds, like on a stormy day, yes, that is what they reminded me of. The stormy day I lost my only Dad, that stormy day. His hair parted perfectly in the front, a little to the left, dark and thick, echoing the sorrows his eyes can only dream to tell anyone. His chiseled features, a bold chin, daring and sure, whispering his fears with a twitch, almost as if he'd been startled. But gale has never been startled.

"What are you going to do with that now that you've killed it?" he asks. I know what he means. An entire deer, just for me, well, maybe Gale could share, I wouldn't mind that. I almost want to say "share" but I know he'd never let me. Stone cold eyes stare into every fiber off my being, like he could read me like an open book. If he could, he would've abandoned me a long time ago, leave me, by myself, nowhere to run, or to hide. I knew he could never admit it, but I knew it was true.

I look back at the deer, trying to decide, when a pack of wild coyotes jumped on me to get their talons into my innocent, dead dear. I looked at the one on top of me straight in the eye, as it swiped across rather face with its razor sharp claws, sinking into my frail flesh and killing me instantaneously, with a last flash of blood red and endless blackness, about as dark as a gloomy night's sky, and that was all I saw, until I was gone, forever.

He wrote on my grave, the grave keeper did, as I watched from below, "She died a Sue", and I had no time to wonder what that could mean before hades' sly, evil smile pulled me closer to my punishment, my short path on destiny. Mine was the stray thread you pull off your sweater. I could not unravel hades' intricately threaded string of the world's destiny, where it shall go in this universe. So now you must know everything, and that is why I tell you this, from the beyond, more so from the underground, so you may think before you do anything too stupid, and end up like me, here, lost in the darkest part of the river of the dead, the souls who cannot repay their debt.

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4 omgimsocool (by the way: omg, no you're not):So dis gurl cumz in, & dies in da wudz, & she iz telin dis fum da grav wher she died…WAIT FOR IT…OKAY, NOW. **BUURRRRNNNNN.** (That was a burn like the girl on fire! XD)


	2. Being turned on

**Author's note: **Again, not my character, don't hate. As well, I would like to thank _They are Narwhals,_ an account shared between to people, for this idea, another thanks goes to Ramonks33 for the help, I.C. for the best negative criticism and omgimsocool (yes, I know, I'm surprised too, just keep reading...) for me wanting to kill this character, and so making this fan fiction, and my mom's computer battery for recharging mine whist I was typing this and saving my dear computer from restarting and losing all my hard work, so now I.C. can say it sucks again, and just another quick thank you to her. Way to go! And please continue to suggest deaths!

**Side note to improve understanding: **(for those of you who need help) Hades is the Greek god of the underworld, death, wealth and is pretty much 'the devil', if our modern society will accept that, and also has a three headed dog, by which I name, Fluffy. **HARRY POTTER FOR THE WIN!**

**Side note for CENSORED words: **I have censored certain words in accordance with the context, I really hope you don't mind, as we (or specifically I) do not know who may find this.

**Chapter 2: Being turned on**

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I wake up on my grubby pillowcase, breathing heavily. My name is still Ericka Shine, I remind myself. Then I think some more, I still have the worst last name in the entire district. I'm still so poor, I can't bear it, still living on the street after, and, most of all, I still love Gale, against any and all the opposing odds. Twelve years have past, and I still love Gale. Everything is the same, except the people. 32 died yesterday and 12 were born then too, so an overall busy day, but everything else, other than those, is the same, my filthily, ripped cardboard box, my brunt and tattered pillowcase, my roguishly built lean-to of branches and straw, and my stained and rusty old knife, all of it. We were all vanishing extremely quickly, and in District Twelve, we knew our demise was near, when we all vanish from the land darkened by the coal we dig for the Capitol.

I pulled the bare cream coloured cloth covering the entrance to my lean-to to the side. The sun was already high above the old, abandoned house with the wood rotting to the core, it was nearly midday and the sun was burning high above me when I finally managed to get ready. I guess I overslept and I knew that if I didn't hurry Gale will already be eating with that stupid girl, Katniss, like every other day. As I make my way over to the gap under the high voltage fence, I see children washing and scrubbing themselves in tubs, dressing up in their Sunday best, and their parents doing their hair, making themselves look better than the average child in District Twelve, which is fairly easy to beat. It's Reaping day, my mind races, as it is the one and only day of the year in Panam when twenty four innocent and pure children are sent to die a most gruesome death of violence and helplessness, with President Snow and the Gamekeeper controlling every element, fire, air, water, life, all of it. Including how and when you are going to die, their capitol lives influencing the everyday world around them. They themselves are causing their problems, and it's all their fault I am how I am, poor, homeless, on the street. The Hunger games are actually more like my everyday life than you think, because nothing is in our control. My life is controlled by the rich and wealthy everyone with more money than me, so everyone. Just think about it.

Since it is the reaping today, I'll have to head back from hunting, and, essentially, surviving, much sooner than I anticipated. I had forgotten about the reaping. No one forgets about the reaping.

My old rusted and bent knife is still sitting there, ready to be thrown at an animal and stained and blacked with life itself, the blood of a poor, defenseless and wounded creature. Before I go into the woods at the edge of the district to hunt for food, I decide to take the long route, past the square, for I still don't have a proper clean dress for the reaping, and the mayor's daughter gets a newer, fancier dress every year. Last year she had a peach dress, and even if it is an insufficient size for me, It'll have to work, because I can't even breathe in the dress I wore last year, a sparkling white fanning skirt barely attached to a tight beaded top with uneven stitches. The sleeves down to my elbows, which itch my fracturable and fragile skin, and my elbows bled for a week after that. I peer into the trash bins, and Madge, the mayor's daughter's old dress lay under two crumpled metal tins, and an bottle of bleach, which I have no idea where she got, because no one ever gets anything good things around here. But seeing as I still have something to wear, I continue on my way.

When I see Gale, a perfect human in every way possible, with Katniss, a loser and idiot, who couldn't die if I stabbed her, and I've lost count of how many times I've tried, walking towards Madge's house. Madge and Katniss are almost best friends, both outcasts, who distanced themselves from the rest of us, the normal ones. They would be best friends if she hadn't met Gale. Katniss and Gale were selling strawberries to the mayor, who loved the succulent and juicy taste of the fruit, having a sweet tooth himself, and would do anything for one.

I keep Gale behind, hoping to talk, with stupid Katniss eavesdropping and spying on us. She wants gale to herself, so I can't have him. I know it. She just can't help being a queen bee, can she? but after a few seconds of muttering words lacking a proper structure I finally speak to him, standing before me, a tall figure, with soul-peering eyes and all. "Um, Hello, Gale" I finally spit out, when I realize what I'm wearing. A ripped and over sized top covered in grime and my overall crude appearance. Jeans torn at about my knee, making it hard to bend and stretch. No shoes, as always, and my hair knotted and tied into a small piece of damp fabric."Gale?", I questioningly say, it appeared as though he was in another dimension, another world of sorts. He was probably thinking about Katniss.

"Oh, Hey...", he left the rest blank, and I question our relationship. A disdaining look crossed his face, he wasn't happy. he doesn't know, but i would do anything to make he smile.

"Ericka." I say, finishing his sentence we are so prefect together, how can he not see that? "What do you think of Katniss?", I ask, for he was staring at her. My voice was squeaky and high-pitched. I sounded like an idiot. My throat was dry, I hadn't eaten in days.

"Um... why? no... I mean... Ugghhh. You caught me.", he stammers.

" I think she's a **C****E****NSORED **." I say, sounding like a know it all and a horrible person at the same time.

His arms were around my neck! He moved quickly, and I couldn't tell what was happening, and I stupidly thought that he might actually kiss me! No, I was wrong, I knew it, and he wasn't ever going to, I knew it, he knew it, Katniss even knew it. I felt so stupid for thinking he might actually kiss me so as a red daze slowly glazed over my eyes, darkening the brightness of the day, just as if I were asleep, although I knew I wasn't ever going to sleep again, I knew I would never wake in my afterlife rise again. I choked and snorted. I needed air, quickly, and I started to panic from lack of air, but my throat was blocked by Gale's tight grasp, which was strengthening with every second, every moment, as I just went limp, and Gale was still holding me up. All was black, when a last flash of flesh danced across my eyes, left open in the world above. Finally, the black hole of death arrived and swallowed my being, my life, everything that had mattered to me, into itself, the black hole of nevermore. I went to the monster that remains to this day, by the name of Hades, passing my soul into the river of death, I must now be part of the dead, meaning I should never be seen again, for eternity, and that was my end, Hades told my story to the new arrivals, making their stories seem like the stories of an amateur. I still rest in a dingy back alley, even today.


	3. Hit me like a train

**Author's note: **thank you to Ramonks33 for this idea, where (SPOILER ALERT) Ericka gets hit by a train. Another Thanks goes to I.C. (a friend from school), for a bushel full of "that sucks". Much appreciated.-_-.

Also, in the second paragraph, I reference a smell to ''fresh fallen rain'' anyone else like the smell of nature after it rains, or am I alone on this one? O_O (I also went a little deep there...)

**Chapter 3: Hit by a train**

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I wake up and pull the charred cloth resting on top of my crudely built lean-to out of the way to see the brightly shining sun. I have survived another night, and now all I need to do is kill Katniss and get Gale to love me. I carefully make my way past the tired miners trudging to go to work the old coal mine, and around the peacekeepers guarding the streets of the district. I went through the meadow to try to avoid the peacekeepers, who might just hang me for poaching anything from a simple carrier pigeon to a great white polar bear.

The fence doesn't make a sound. The capitol is not yet here. This time I'm lucky. Even if the reaping if it is today, I must get more food. My name is entered a few more times than it should be for an orphan my age, and even that doesn't help the hungry. I've pretended like my dad has been alive to get more food, so my name is enter a few times more in order to feed myself. I slide under the fence on what is left of my belly, being so empty and hollow like an old, rotting oak tree from not eating for while. Famine kills fast around here. It smells of old dead grass and fresh fallen rain. It smells as if it were something new again, unlike it's true nature, an ancient forest crumbling away, piece by piece, until nothing remains. The animals call for one another, and for both their moral and physical support. From the tiniest beings on the trees, to the great beasts of the long forgotten times, all revolving around me. I nip a hare with my rusty dagger and continue to the black market.

The innocent hare's blood drips down my arm to the edge of my perfect little fingers, not as if I'd like to boast. A woman gives me 10 gold for the bloody beast, a shame she was poor. I buy a small bun from the bakers' place and a round of cheese from a stupid girl and her pest of a goat. The peacekeepers' bells call time for the reaping, and Effie Trinkets' train of mahogany arrives, on the tracks where I stand, coming fast, like a bullet heading towards me at lighting speed. I try to run, but my feet don't obey me. I can't move, out of fear or not, stuck on the tracks, until my final breath passed through my lips.

Blood drained form my veins, coming through my eye sockets, red ensued, leaving the scene from under the wheels of the fastest train known to the Capitol. Then, almost as suddenly as it came, the red was gone, been replaced by the darkness of the devil, Hades, god of wealth, and the underworld, and his Hound of Hell. I lie awake eternally, only to sleep when I have righted my wrongs. ''Which wrongs?'' I asked Hades, honestly having no clue.

Hades simply replied, ''The ones you can never fix.'' His evil grin flashed across the ugly blue-red face he holds most dear. He has locked me in, and so now the hideous underworld traps me in, like a cage of pain, angering me more of than anyone else. I sit here, unable to change the past ,only to sit looking at my ugly and abhorrent to die, yet barely living in this hell.

''I am supposed sit here day by day, passing years, of torture, only to aid someone else, I think not!'', and with that final statement, I left to find my grave.

''Everyone will be here to pay respects to me!'' I told myself, and when I got there, I realised I was wrong. They wouldn't come. It's not sunset yet. So there I sit. Come find me, if you dare.

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FINAL MESSAGE: DON'T DRIVE WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK AND MORE SPECIFICALLY, DON'T EVEN TRY TO DRIVE A LARGE AND BOTHERSOME TRAIN! ALSO, DON'T LET HAYMITCH DRIVE THE TRAIN! XD


	4. Tracker Jacker Extreme

**Author's note: **Sorry, I've been a 'little' inconsistent, but you know, **WHATEVER! **I finally decided that my fans' (if any) opinions' don't matter to me. (That was a total lie. Please like it!) But keep sending suggestions. Because my next story will be on "PEETA KILLS HER WITH BREAD" which is kind of a long shot, Ramonks. Don't get the wrong idea. Ramonks is an amazing author. I should know. I'm kind of almost best friends with her. We're just missing the secrets. And the lies. Which is totally awesome. We just sit around and fangirl.

**Side notes: **A galaxial year is 225 million earth years, and this fact is woven in near the end, as well, when I say, "THE GREAT ANGEL" This is a referal to god in many different cultures and religlions, though I myself do not take part in any such sort of religlion. I am, however, open to all people in a religion, and do not judge bysuperfical things such as race or religion. Anyone who does is, for lack of a better word, Stupid. Also, I would like to mention, although I have previously mentioned it, that "HADES" Is a greek god, god of the underworld and wealth, and he owns a three-headed dog (named Fluffy), I also refer to Hades when I mention "THE DEVIL".

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**Tracker Jacker Extreme**

I wake up, and everything is normal. My rusted old dagger awaits for me where I left it, sitting on a cardboad box and almost falling on to a pile of junk courtesy of the wondrous Capitol. My bare feet carefully pick their way through the dirt and grime over laping more dirt and grime, and so on and so on. It is absolutly disgusting. I wish I lived in district one, or two, or the capitol. Make up, hairdressing, rich food, it would be lovely and breathtaking. I then I could laugh at Katniss and her stupid family as they struggle to survive. Or do they survive? That's better. They die because I'm so much better than them. I daydream as I make my way though the square, the black market on the corner, our 'lovely' Mayor's house in the center of it all. Through the meadow, a cold, lifeless plain in the brittle air of winter.

As I reach the fence, new noises arise. laughing, shock, then a bitter goodbye. Katniss. The 'I'm not totally in love with you, what?' laugh, the shock of a new and deep subject brought up by Gale, a bit of controversy, then the mood for a goodbye. How dare she? She should know I love him. Now she's blocking me? I race though the woods, branches scratching at my all ready open sores. I see them. there's the clearing up ahead. Wait! I can't just burst in on them. I'll just watch. My mind circles around, confusing the words, messing up my thoughts. Katniss and Gale, no, I'll never let them be together. Coyotes circle around. I have to get away from here. But Gale is here. A tall tree stands tall before me. watching Gale and be a no-show for my very own death, running away and never knowing, or climbing a tree. I'll take the tree.

"We could do it you know" Gale's words are barely heard in the wind.

"What?" Katniss is looking all too eager at this. I never liked her, and I never will.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it." Gale just says it, to her, not to me.

Katniss takes a pause. She has nothing to say. First time for that.

"If we didn't have so many kids," Gale adds all but too quickly. Gale has two brothers and a sister. Katniss has the little goat girl, Primrose.

"I never want to have kids." Katniss says. She's done it this time. I look up. A tracker jacker nest sits quietly above me. I'll drop it on her. Yes. And gale will be mine. I start cutting the branch, or more so a twig, right above Katniss.

Gale continues to talk,"I might. If I didn't live here."

"But you do."She's very annoyed by now and-ouch! One sting, then another, then another, and eventually, the whole nest is on me. But I was gone by then. Falling out of a tree, waiting to hit the ground, but it never comes. straight down to the fiftieth dimension of hell. The devils' case stands, the pleasing is gone, judgement has come. I have done wrong, and until I amend those who I have wronged, I have fifty galaxial years of burning pain and torture, fifty times as harsh as my 'life'. But for now I sit, thinking upon the days of my youth, wondering, what could I have done to deserve this most abhorrent fate. However, I was a thread in The great Angels' tapasity, and someones' fate was woven into mine, perhaps someone I barely knew. Hades, the ruler of us all down here knows, but he won't tell us for another fifty galaxial years- 11 700 000 000 000 earth years. Same as in life, waiting is the hardest part.


	5. Dead by Bread

**A/N**: Sorry! I'm trying to post every week, so... that didn't exactly work, but I am trying (maybe). Also, I have to say just one other sorry in advance, because my space bar doesn't work properly. It doesn't always register when I press it, so, if to words are glued together, it's not exactly my fault; it's my space bar's fault.

Also, to improve your understanding, when I say "_being put down_" I mean they'd kill her, and, when I say "_wide angled cut skirt_" that's a '60's style. It kind of looks like a (not as poufy) poodle skirt. Google it. Google solves everything. EVERYTHING. (maybe)

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Chapter 5: Dead by bread

I once again wake up in a rush. My bent and rusted dagger sits alone to my left on top of an old, damp cardboard box. I lay silent as a mouse on my musty-smelling pillowcase, which is full of old clothes, and as I lay; I subconsciously smell the pillowcase, taking deep breaths. My nose is silently filling my nostrils with yucky moldy aromas and other extremely unappealing smells.

I search though the old clothes, finding two matching shoes, though different sizes, which were absolutely un-wearable. An old red t-shirt with a chunk taken out of the middle front sits at the top, haunting my eyes with memories. Horrible memories. I see an old baseball cap-Braves? - I can't exactly read, because I don't go to school. Blessing and a curse. I wish I could read, but I've picked up a little in my years. Some tattered jeans (that now look more likes shorts), some half-charred (real) shorts, a tank top with a rip or three in the back, (thank the gods it's not the front) and my dad's old gray leather jacket.

I pull the ripped tank top over my head, and I know it's a little too big, but the alternative is the red t-shirt, which is a lot more breezy... and flashy. I also wear the "shorts" that were once jeans, tearing halfway downs my thigh, and my dad's old jacket. The jacket has a tattered left sleeve, from when I fell out of a tree. The biggest shoe is about three sizes too small, and the smallest is another six sizes below that.

I need new shoes. I decided to look through the cobbler's trash once I was in the square. He's rarely there, so digging through his trash should be easier than say, the baker's trash. The bakers' wife sits at the window every once in a while, warding off the homeless people keen on stale bread and burnt cakes. She sits there, almost every day, waiting to call the peacekeepers on us. The baker just wants a trade, say, I'll sew a tear in his apron back together for a slice or two of fresh bread. He is cheap, and does not like to go to the tailors' shop.

Besides, his son is the best at wasting dough. Once he brunt it, then his mother slapped him, which is easily pictured when you know the baker's wife, and fed it to the pigs, only not really. He fed it to the pig of a girl, Katniss, when I was starving right next to her, well, twenty feet behind and away from her.

That's when I started hating her. She gets Peeta, Gale, everyone. I hate her for stealing my crush. What happened to the girl code? I saw him first, I get first pick. Gale should be mine, and only mine. MINE. Girl code should be honored. Once I confronted her, and she said they were just friends. But Peeta disagrees. He says they're dating. In the woods. Gross. Bugs. Worms. Animals. Away from humans. Alone. NOT GOOD.

I turn back. I am back to reality. I turn west to find that my oil lamp has spilt, I must have knocked it over in my sleep, and my eyes carefully follow the spilt gasoline across the dirt floor. Great. Just another mess to clean up. As I clean, my zipper breaks. The wool stuffing clogs the zipper-which was invented in 1913-It's stuck. I can't open it for a while, but after sixteen minutes of careful attention and deliberation, I am finally free, and ready to leave for the woods. I normally wouldn't go in the creepy place, but whatever-WAIT! - Shoes. I need new shoes. I dig through the cobblers' bin. The cobbler is a creep, watching the homeless. Rumours float around about him, but I don't believe them. Just a joke. A stupid joke, but never the less, a joke.

I walk out of the shaggy lean-to build leaning on to an old, almost collapsing mill, or maybe a house. It's honestly a little tricky to identify anything. This is where everything goes to die. Hades himself must've designed district 12. The house had been abandoned several years ago when the mine exploded and the owners' died. Happy ending, I know, right? But life was like that in the seam. Life is fine one day, then gone the next. I'm just glad that my time still runs. For now. Whatever. I'll be alive tomorrow, right?

-WRONG! -

Out in the square, I run past the black market, where soup is on sale -yum! - I'll visit later-with my catch of the day to trade. The healer's shop is empty, as always. I wonder if she died. Maybe not, but whatever. No one ever visits the healer's. Maybe they don't have enough money- or maybe they just don't have enough time, or time left. TIME LEFT. I'll pay her a visit -if she's alive- later, and then the baker's house appears straight in front of me. I duck behind a shop, for the baker's wife is out. I don't notice which shop it is until I look in the trash -shoes.

Thinking now about shoes, I look in the cobblers' shop's window, -he's still not there. I wonder if he died too. Whatever. It's not my problem, it's his. Right? Yep. His problem.

I find some yellow-looking shoes, mostly bleached. I see why they were in the trash-broken everywhere, which no soles to be found-oh well. I need shoes, just for today, because today is-REAPING DAY! I had nearly forgotten. Nearly.

I need a dress-reaping day is never complete without a dress. I begin to walk towards the tailor's shop. After a few lonely minutes of searching, I find a daffodil orange dress, faded and ripped, of course, but what isn't here? I run back quickly to get changed-I can still hunt in a dress? Right? Whatever. The reaping day bells are chiming as I run to get into the ceremony- if it can even be called that. We don't exactly celebrate this ceremony.

When Peeta stands in my way. He's wearing his reaping day clothes. He looks very handsome today. Maybe I like him more than Gale -Nope. - Gale is way cuter (maybe). I blink my eyes trice, and try to flirt- I just need _a boyfriend_, anyone, really. – even him- when he starts towards my lips. Apparently, flirting works.

No. That's wrong. Lips before hands, silly.

No. Bread. He stuffs loaves of pumpernickel bread that swallows my taste buds whole. Pumpernickel. Red. Pumpernickel. Black. Pumpernickel. Gone.

No. –WAIT- Yes… Hades stands before me, just as in my dreams. All is the same as the dreams. Hades grins his evil grin, and says, "You know why you are here. You are here to right the wrongs you have made."

"What wrongs?" I ask quietly, almost already knowing the answer.

Sure enough, I was right. Hades simply replied, ''The ones you can never fix.''

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Well, that was nice. Read and Respond!


	6. Beaten over

A/N: This is the part where you read, then respond when you finish reading. It's right at the bottom. Only takes a minute. So... R&R.

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Sorry, as well, for not posting last Tuesday. I excuse myself for my absence of fan fiction, but I do have an extremely good reason, see, I was occupied at Winkler Bible Camp (That's in Canada) where internet does not exist. I was at camp for my Art Camp, a school field trip. (Now, go and read that last part aloud, twice. You are to read it with two accents. One british, one Canadian. You can add as many "eh" s as you want, and use that thesaurus that you haven't open since you bought it at the beginning of the school year, and dim-down all those helpful words.)

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Side notes:

Charon = ferry man to the underworld

woman in white = Emily Dickinson

cerberus = three headed dog

river Styx = river in the underworld that makes a hero invunerable.

walls of Erebos = wall that keeps dead souls from leaving the underworld

fields of Asphodel = home for average souls, not good not bad, etc.

judgement pavilion = judgement for souls (judges= Rhadamanthys, Minos, and Aiakos)

fields of punishment = torture.

Elysium = place for awesome people!

Ilse of the blest = in Elysium, best place to be if you're dead.

Tartarus = giant black hole in the underworld, leads to the doors of death.

doors of death = doors from the underworld to the real world.

Erika's dream is a small take, and is much adjusted, beginning of a version of the story of Persephone, **(A/N: **But a quick run through- Persephone was beautiful, Hades likes beautiful, and therefore, he took her to the underworld. He forced her to become his queen. She ate six pomegranate seeds; therefore, she must stay in the underworld as queen for six months. That makes Winter. Do you have anything to add Ramonks33?**)**

**Ramonks33: Well, Persephone is not the brightest goddess. OH WAIT. SORRY APOLLO! *starts running as he is shooting arrows...***

**Apollo: I'M THE BRIGHTEST GOD! FEEL MY AWESOMENESS!**

**Ramonks33: ARTEMIS IS BETTERRRRRRR**

**Apollo: WHY YOU LITTLE...**

**A/N: **Well then, let's just go to the stor - *** ducks from one of Apollo's misfired arrows *** -y. story. let's go.

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Chapter 6: BEATEN OVER (by Lady)

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I somehow knew today was going to be a bad day even before I got out of 'bed'. The sun was warm over my pale skin, although the day was dark, much like last night's awful nightmare.

In the earth changing nightmare, the red devil came from his palace in the underworld to get me. He took me from the world by causing an earthquake and pulling me under, grabbing me around the waist as he rose up on his daring and nobel horse, but on his way plunging me into eternal darkness and bitterness in the underworld. I fell forever, or so it seemed, and as I looked around, there were fruits covering the round walls that surrounded me. As I glanced around at the walls, I noticed a beautiful girl falling beside me. Of course, I was much prettier. I mean, obviously. I randomly heard a goat noise. Man, I need some more sleep. I kept falling, until a voice said that the end was close. The girl, with her black hair and green eyes (which looked like colored contacts), looked even more panicked than I. She looked down and started screaming. Why she was screaming I never knew. I tried to look down, but I couldn't. I woke up, scared, but why? I never saw what was down there. Maybe I should be scared.

My 'bed' is so cold, the cool autumn breeze felt warm in comparison, and as I step out of my quaint little hovel, it collapses. I was having a great day so far. I lean over to pick up the damp sheets, worn from both my use and pests. As well, they were in the dump. "Yay me! An old stinky bed sheet ten years older than me." I say to myself, "I wish Gale were here, he's so handsome, with those deep gray eyes, mmm. He'd even help me pick up my stuff and put my lean-to back up and..." I trail off. Something was stopping me from talking, like a lump in my throat, like a literal blockage stopping me from talking.

I hear a small noise, a click-clack sort of sound, like when you tap your nails on a desk. I turn around, and as I turn I quietly whisper "Gale?" more so and a hopeful plea than one of those 'is it seriously you?' questions. I turn, and see nothing. I reassure myself. "It was just the wind" I promise, though I now look back and know, deep down, I would never believe the wind could sound like a horse's hooves crashing onto the cold, hard ground.

I pull up one of the longer branches of wood, and insept it. Maybe the struture had a defect. It's covered in mold on one side, and eaten by bugs on the other. I feel the center, and if a sponge could give you slinters, that would be it.

Once more I turn around, hearing the pounding of feet on the ground, along with the ever growing sound of something crashing to the ground, like when you bang your cup down on the table, hoping to make a loud noise. I see, in the middle of the road, a goat. I smile. being all worked up over a goat. Stupid goat.

The goat rammed over, crushing my beautiful face, crushing my lungs, allowing me to implode like a sealed plastic water bottle high in the sky, in an airplane.

Every thing turns balck.

Charon won't let me in. He says I must wait a hundreed years to enter if I do not have a golden dracma. I search my pockets. I find one coin, and a paperclip. I give him the coin. "Will this do?"

"Sure." he says. "Hop onto my ferry. We shall cross the river Styx."

"Thank you" I say as I step onto the wobbly rowboat. Ferry? he dare call this a Ferry? It's junk! I resist the urge to yell. he's the only one with answers who'll talk to me.

We arrive, and I can just walk through Cerberus, and he doesn't seem to notice. I go through the express death line, cutting and jabbing the other souls. The walls of Erebos, much larger than the Great Wall of China, stand tall and proud, almost as if they were alive. The fields of Asphodel are filled, mostly with undead souls. I see a woman, in a nice dress, looking like she died in 1886, she was dressed all in white. White, that's... the colour of the rare passion, the most rarest if the red of fire is the most common. I walk up to the haunting soul and say a simple "hello".

The soul just simply replies with a poem.

"Because I could not stop for Death,  
He kindly stopped for me;  
The carriage held but just ourselves  
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,  
And I had put away  
My labor, and my leisure too,  
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove  
At recess, in the ring;  
We passed the fields of gazing grain,  
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;  
The dews grew quivering and chill,  
For only gossamer my gown,  
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed  
A swelling of the ground;  
The roof was scarcely visible,  
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each  
Feels shorter than the day  
I first surmised the horses' heads  
Were toward eternity."

She never does stop. She bows, then continues,

I heard a fly buzz when I died,

the stillness in the room-

And there I was, wandering about, my only words to be found her very poems, and listening, ever so intently, for another line, then another. In my head I wondered to myself, "What have you done to your afterlife?"

It was then that Cerberus found me, and pushed me over to the Judgement Pavilion. I only saw the three judges for a second, when they pointed North.

I followed their fingers by drifting over in my ghost prison. It was there I spent the rest of my days, in the field of punishment.

~~~ poems are by Emily Dickinson, 1830-1886 ~~~


	7. SORRY

ATTENTION READERS!

My Laptop went ahsdtvkedtrbzx!

so now I probably won't post very often, sorry. but I'm moving so, (this summer-ish) and after that, my mom'll give me some money to buy a new one. so, sorry about that, but it's not my fault, because it was my mom that actually dropped it.

SEE YOU IN A WHILE, OR A MONTH OR SO.

-GRAMMAR ASSASSIN


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